


Beg, Borrow, or Steele (Part 2)

by SteeleHoltingOn



Series: RS Alternate Universe: We Wish It Would Have Happened This Way [1]
Category: Remington Steele (TV)
Genre: F/M, not season 5 compliant - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-02
Updated: 2009-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleHoltingOn/pseuds/SteeleHoltingOn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 4: Another take on what might have happened before and after "Bonds of Steele."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beg, Borrow, or Steele (Part 2)

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my latest news on tumblr @SteeleHoltingOn or on my professional tumblr @AnnikaSteele

Beg, Borrow or Steele: Part 2  
  
Freshly showered, with clean hair and a change of clothes, Laura began to feel like herself again. After two nights of sleeping in odd places with Mr. Steele, they’d parted company at the conclusion of a perilous case to peel away the dirt and grime at their respective apartments. She had been strangely reluctant to leave him.  Perhaps he sensed her hesitation because he casually suggested meeting her for dinner later.  She annoyed herself by accepting the invitation with too much enthusiasm.

  
Mr. Steele had laid out a healthy repast made by his own hands.  Afterward, they stretched out together on the living room floor, lying, perhaps, somewhat closer than usual.   With a comforting glow from the fireplace and a small amount of scotch over ice, they recounted the odd turn of events.  Laura had certainly gleaned an understanding of Mr. Steele's old life in the process.  Sleeping under an overpass gave one a whole new view of life.  

She commented, “It’s amazing how little we can survive on if we really have--"

A cold glass on the bare skin of her back interrupted her thought.  Mr. Steele's odd smile gave her a clue that she was treading periously close to the dark waters of his past.  Rather than wading in, she changed the subject.  

“Is that your foot on my leg?” she asked as she had the night before while they were scrunched together on a tiny cot.

“Um hmm.”  His smile softened into a grin as he lifted his brows.  Laura couldn’t resist leaning in for a kiss that quickly turned ravenous.  His tongue teased just long enough that she parted her lips for him, and he dove inside to explore her mouth with exacting thoroughness.  He put just enough pressure on her body that she rolled to her back and brought up her hand to grasp his shoulder.  

Uncharacteristically though, Mr. Steele ended the kiss.  His long fingers began stroking her hair while he watched her intently.  His lean body hugged her curves, but he made no move to either pursue or release her.  Relaxing into his warmth and the hypnotizing draw of his hands, Laura closed her eyes.  With the exhaustion of the past days washing over her, the last thing she remembered was the press of his lips against her temple before sleep came.

Laura woke in Mr. Steele’s bed--alone.  Since she was fully dressed, she decided she'd fallen asleep on his living room floor and he'd put her there.  I must have been more tired than I thought.  Glancing at the clock, she discovered that it was nearly nine in the morning.  Five minutes in the bathroom gave her time to splash water on her face and repin her hair.  She found Mr. Steele leaning against his bedroom door, wearing his dressing gown and pajama pants.  

He held out a cup of tea. “Sleeping in your clothes again, Laura?  I’d rather think you would have had enough of that these past few days.”  

Chagrined, she gave him a small smile as she took her tea from him.  “Sorry, Mr. Steele.”

“Laura--” He kissed her cheek.  “Do you think you’ll ever call me ‘Remington’?”

Pausing with the tea hovering inches from her mouth, she said, “Oh.”  She took a sip.  “I don’t know.”

He put his hand to the small of her back and laid enough pressure on it that she walked into the living room.  “Think about it.  Now, enjoy your tea.  I imagine you’ll want to freshen up a bit before we go into the office, so I’ll see you there in an hour or so.  I’m going to take my shower, unless, of course, you would like to join me.  In that case, the agency will have to survive without its leadership for the day.”

Laura laughed.  “I’ll see you there.”

“I thought so.”  But he smiled to show her he wasn’t annoyed and turned toward the bedroom again.

She found her shoes and looked at the clean grey sofa.  “Mr. Steele?”

“Yes, Laura.”  He paused with his hand on the bathroom door frame.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

“The same place I spent the last two.”  He closed the door behind him.

Laura beat him to the office by an hour.  Any 'hello's' she might have made to Mildred were cut off as she opened the door.  With a phone to her ear, a harrassed-looking Mildred handed over a stack of messages as she dealt with the press over the stories that had hit the airwaves over the weekend.  Laura escaped to her office to face the slush pile of papers on her desk. 

Mr. Steele appeared just in time to impress a new client and then to suggest lunch for the three of them.  After nearly starving for two days, Laura had few qualms about locking the office for food.

In the quiet afternoon, though, she worked her way through a stack of bills and case files.  Half her brain paid detailed attention while the other half disappeared into the woods, looking for answers to unasked questions.  It was after five-thirty when Mildred popped her head into her office long enough to wave good-bye.

Two minutes later, Mr. Steele strolled in.  “Ready to call it a day?”

She frowned at the small stack still remaining on her desk. “I, uh, I think I’ll stay here and finish this.”  To her surprise, he sat down across from her and picked up the first file.  “What are you doing?”

“Laura, after the last few harrowing days, there isn’t anywhere I would rather be tonight than with you.  If you’re going to stay late and work on papers, then I will too.”  She sat in astonishment for a long moment before rising to her feet and pacing.  “Mr. Stee--Remington.”  

He sat up a little at the name.  She pretended not to notice as she crossed her arms and paced in the tiny office.  “I’ve been thinking.  Quite a lot, actually.  About, well, you and me.”  He put down the file, giving her his undivided attention.  

She caught herself rubbing her hands up and down her arms--a dead giveaway she was nervous--and stopped. 

“We’ve spent the last five days together--the last two entirely with each other.  And I know that--despite all that happened--I wouldn’t have wanted to be with anyone else.”

“Nor I, Laura,” he put in when her pause drew out into a lengthy silence.  He narrowed his eyes at her--waiting.

“Oh, I don’t know how to say this.”  She turned to him and clasped her hands in front of her.  “Please come home with me tonight.  I don’t want to spend another evening, or another night, away from you.”   

Remington, with his face carefully blank, stood to lean against the desk.  “What exactly do you want from me, Laura?”

In for a penny, in for a pound.  “Everything.”  

“Everything?”  

She nodded, clutching her arms again, dreading his response.  

“Do we need to finish the paperwork first?”  

Surprised, relieved ... and outright thrilled by his cheeky retort, she laughed and shook her head.  

“Then I’ll come home with you.”  He pulled her to him for a kiss that was full of promise; moments later he had to be the one to break it off.  “Do you mind if we pick up a few things from my place?”

 

*****

 

Remington assessed Laura’s frame of mind.  She was wound tight as a drum.  Deliberately, he spent as little time as possible in his flat, gathering only the essentials of clothing and toiletries while she waited on his bed.  Her hands were stuffed between her knees, and he was quite certain she was unaware that she was swaying back and forth, as if to soothe herself.  Keep it casual, mate.  She’s petrified something will go wrong.  

So was he.

“At the risk of sounding banal, I think neither of us is interested in skipping dinner.  What would you like to do?”  He hefted his clothes over his shoulder.

“Um.”  Her eyes finally met his.  “I hadn’t thought about it.”  

“Chinese?  Tacos?”  

Surprised, she looked up.  

“Let’s keep this easy, Laura.”  

“Pizza?” she ventured.

“I’ll get the Chianti from the kitchen and we can go.”  See there?  Nothing to get uptight about.   

 

*****

 

At her loft, Remington changed clothes in the bathroom.  Laura called for pizza, then disappeared into her bedroom.  All in all it was disconcertingly normal--except that behind closed doors and curtains, each dealt with their own set of nerves.

After slipping into a pair of jeans and a muted button-down shirt, Remington braced himself against the counter.  Don’t scare her off, mate.  Then he did something he’d quit doing two years ago.  He slid a couple of condoms into his pocket.  After Cannes, he had realized that the only way Laura would ever come to him would be after very careful deliberation on her part, or she would have to be seriously intoxicated.  Since Laura controlled her alcohol consumption the way she controlled everything else, the latter was highly unlikely, and he wouldn’t have wanted their first time to be under those circumstances anyway--too many chances for regrets for either of them.  Icy calm, old chap.

He pushed himself away from the counter and strolled casually into the living room.  Laura  hadn't come out yet, so he kept busy by pouring the Chianti into the fat goblets he had given to her on her last birthday.

Laura paced in her bedroom, trying not to berate herself for giving in to her need for him.  She failed miserably and had a short, pointed conversation with her conscience.  I haven’t even slept with him yet and I’m already having doubts.  Grow UP, Laura.  It doesn’t get any better than this.  He’s your partner, your friend.  You know he’ll still respect you in the morning or you’ll bop him on the head if he doesn’t.  And if he tries to leave, you’ll hunt him down and murder him.  The last thought actually made her smile.  And relax.  

She stripped off her suit to change into a lilac teddy that hugged her slim curves and then pulled out a black silk shell to wear with her white jeans.  Casual, but dressy.  A quick glance in the mirror had her yanking the clip out of her hair and refastening it after a fast finger-comb through the locks.  Could I disappear on him?  Say to Catalina?  Might be fun letting him find me.

If Remington could have heard her thoughts, his heart might have stopped out of shock.  As it was, he had to hold himself still when she shoved the curtains to the side and stepped through, looking delectable in that prim sort of way she had.  It was the way she moved underneath the clothes she wore.  She had a knack for sensible-but-attractive clothing, but he was sure every bloke in a five-mile radius could see that her hips twitched sensually when she walked in that long-legged stroll.  Her hands and arms never hung to the side; they floated through the air.  And her chin stayed high, exposing the long, elegant line of her neck--projecting confidence all the while.

Her gaze met his across the room.  Instead of hesitancy or regret, he saw pure daring warming those sultry maple eyes.  By the time Laura took the three steps to descend the short staircase to the living room, Remington had set down his glass and taken half-a-dozen swift strides so that he could clutch her face and kiss her deeply.  I’ve never been able to resist a challenge.  God only knows she’s been one.

Laura could feel the difference in his kiss, the tinge of desperation in the hands that held her.  They burned through the thin silk of her blouse and then her teddy when he slipped the top free of her waistband and slid his hands underneath.

They both jumped when the doorbell rang and he swore creatively under his breath, making her smile.  “It’s just pizza, Remington.”

“Laura, I don’t care if it’s Mildred handing us the Royal Lavulite; I’m shutting the door and locking it with both of us inside.”  With no little annoyance, he dug a twenty out of his wallet and flung it at the delivery boy before firmly locking the door and dropping the box on the counter.  “Later.  We’ll eat it cold--later.”

“But what if I’m hungry?” she asked as he returned to her.

“I’ll distract you.  I’m very good at distraction.”  His lips found her neck.

She shivered at the sparks dancing along her collarbone.  “Yes, you are.”  Laura hadn’t moved from the stairs, but now she eased up the steps, pulling free of him long enough to yank the shirt over her head.  Shoes and socks were left in heaps at the top of the stairs, followed by shirts and jeans.  A pair of black briefs landed in the middle of the floor, followed by a scrap of lilac silk that Remington pronounced lovely but in the way.  

With both of them stripped bare, it was impossible for Laura think past the end of the bed, not with Remington’s delicious body entirely available for consumption.  She started with his shoulders and worked her way down.  The heady scent of him washed over her, drugging her senses.  She was fascinated by the curls of black hair and spent long minutes dragging her fingers through the waves.   Freed of inhibitions, Laura sat on top of Remington while his eyes and fingers trailed over her skin.  She used her own hands to discover his body.  The looking-but-not-touching part is definitely over, she thought.  Then her fingers trailed lower.

He did his best to hold still for her.  What he wanted to do was feast on her until she screamed with delight, but she was eliciting her own sounds from him.  Every part of his body was tensing up with the need to possess her, and he inadvertently clutched her hips hard enough to leave faint bruises when her fingers closed around him.  He groaned low in his throat.  “Laura, if you want your turn, you’re going to have to ease up a bit, or you’ll be waiting even longer.”

“I could do this instead.”  She shifted forward so that she could take him inside when he gripped her hips with hands of iron, stopping her movement.

“Ah, Laura, condom--right front pocket of my jeans.”  His eyes pleaded with her to hurry.

She leaned forward, letting her hair fall in a curtain, and touched her lips to his face.  “I’m on the Pill.  Are you okay with that?”

Any number of women had told him something similar, but it hadn’t made a difference.  As far as he was concerned, there would never be a chance of leaving a child behind.  From his first fumbling experience in an old warehouse in London, he always used a condom.  Period.  

But this was Laura, the only woman he’d ever trusted as much as he trusted himself.  And if she said she was on the Pill, he believed her.  “Of course.”  

Hundreds of sexual experiences hadn’t prepared him for the exotic warmth enveloping him.  He had to hold her still again to regain a modicum of control while the sheer sensuality of her body dragged him under.  It wouldn’t take much before the fragile restraint he had failed.  He realized that he couldn’t tell if Laura was anywhere close to her own release.  His brain was saturated with need, and his body burned where she’d touched him.  It was with strength born of sheer will that he opened his eyes to focus on her instead of on the sensations she was creating in him.

But Laura was drowning as well.  The combination of having him inside her while his hands skimmed over her breasts, waist and hips had her struggling to hold back her own climax.  His thumbs flicked her nipples and sent streaks bolting into her core, making her clench those muscles--and that was Remington’s undoing.  With his hands on her hips, she rode him for a handful of long, hard strokes.  He brought his hands up to grasp hers and they let the waves pull them under.

The shudders hadn’t stopped yet when Remington began laying kisses down the line of her throat.  “Now, my lovely Laura, it’s my turn to have my way with you.”

 

*****

 

The pizza was stone cold when they got around to eating it.  Laura discovered that Remington had zero inhibitions about sprawling on her bed in the nude while he drank his Chianti and consumed his share.  She had retrieved his shirt from the floor and put it on but left it unbuttoned while she ate her slice straight from the box.  His eyes wandered across her body unashamedly from time to time, but they always came back to her face.  She was sure she was going to have a permanent blush there from the things she was envisioning they could do when Remington interrupted her reverie.

“Laura?”

“Hmm?”  

“Why now?  What changed?”

Laura set down the last bite of her pizza and wiped her face before answering him.  “Sure you want to hear this?”  He arched a brow at her and waited.  “It’s simple, really.  The idea of loving you still scares the hell out of me and I don’t know what our future holds.  But if it’s anything like the last four years, I’m game.  And if it’s anything like the past five days, then it’s no wonder I’m in love with you.  From the ballroom of a New York hotel to sleeping underneath an L.A. freeway, you’ve been with me every single step.  I can’t ask for more than that.  And if that isn’t love, I don’t know of a better definition.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and started to speak, “Laura--"

She put her hand to his lips.  “I don’t need to hear the words from you, Remington.  It’s enough that I can tell you that I love you.”  Setting the pizza box on the floor, she tugged him off the bed.  “Now, I seem to remember your saying things about sharing a shower with you on any number of occasions in recent months.  I think it’s time you made good on your promises.”

He stopped her.  “It’s not enough, Laura.”  

“What’s not enough?”  She crossed her arms and faced him fully with just as much confidence and panache as if she were fully dressed instead of standing naked a foot away from him.  “Remington, do you think I would go to bed with you at this point if I wasn’t absolutely sure that you love me?”

“When you put it that way--no.”

“Then we’re in agreement.  Can I have a shower now?  I’m sticky.”

 

*****

 

Seven weeks later in Steele’s flat after a little incident on a tuna boat …

“I canNOT believe what we just did!”  Laura stormed through the condominium and headed straight for the shower.

“Laura, I promise you--I didn’t think things would turn out this way.”  He was only two steps behind her.

“Were you thinking at all?”  Icy sarcasm coated the words.

“Damn it, Laura, I was thinking of YOU!”

“How can marrying a prostitute mean you were thinking of ME!”

“I was thinking of you AND the agency and the fact that if I was deported we would lose everything!  Bloody hell, Laura, don’t close the door on me.”  

She shut the door in his face.  Laura fumed as she scrubbed the mud from her hair.  I put myself on the line for him.  I tell him I love him, spend every night for a month and a half with him, and this is how he treats me?  And what do we have now?  A fake marriage to deal with for two years!  Do we have ANYTHING that is real?  She yanked a towel off the rack and wrapped it around her before reopening the door.  Remington sat on the bed with his chin in his hand, watching her as she went to his closet and pulled out a clean pair of slacks and a blouse.

“I’m sorry, Laura.”

“I’m sorry too, Mr. Steele.”  

“Don’t you think we’re past that, Laura?”

“Past what?”

“Calling me ‘Mr. Steele.’ ”

“It’s the only thing I can call you right now that doesn’t involve cursing or spiteful names.”  She found her shoes in the bottom of the closet.

“All right, I made a mistake.  What do want of me now?  What do I have to do to make things right with you?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?  That you’re angry with me?  Believe me, Laura; you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

She stood squarely in front of him and put her hands on her hips.  “I thought we had more than just a roll in the hay.  But apparently, whatever you feel for me doesn’t include trust.”

“Trust?  This isn’t about trust; this is about reality.  What was I supposed to do?  Come to you and say, ‘Laura, the INS is going to deport me if I’m not married to an American citizen by six this evening.  Do you think you could help me out?’  I mean, really, Laura--we both know what you would have said to that.”

She walked to the door and turned around.  “Do you?” she said quietly.

He didn’t move while she snatched her purse off the sofa and went home.

 

*****

It was after midnight when a black-clad Remington jimmied the window to Laura’s loft.  Like Nero, he leapt from countertop to floor without a sound and stole his way up to her room.  The moon threw off enough light for him to see the streaks where tears had run down her face.  He stepped out of his shoes and eased onto her bed, sliding his arm around her in the way that had become achingly familiar in the past forty-three nights.   

“Why are you here?”  Her voice was heavy with sleep and strain.

“Because this is where I belong, Laura.”  He tightened his arm around her until she turned over.  Great sobs erupted from her as she buried her face in his shoulder.  He knew she wasn’t just angry; she was hurt by his lack of faith in her.   In light of how badly he'd buungled the entire affair, all he could do was hold her while she cried.  

*****

Remington was making tea when Laura woke the next morning.  With quiet reservation, she descended the steps and took the cup he offered.  After she had a moment get her first dose of caffeine, he took a deep breath and touched her pale cheek.

“Laura, there are no words to express how terribly sorry I am for yesterday.  You're correct; I should have told you what was happening.  I wasn’t thinking.  I … I don’t know what I was thinking, other than I honestly believed that you would never entertain the idea of marrying me to keep me here in the U.S.  You even said that to me.”

“I was angry with you.”  She was solemn and very still.  He noted that she didn’t accept his apology.  “So now what?” she asked quietly.

“I asked Mildred to do quite a bit of research last night.  And it appears, despite everything we did to the contrary, that it is entirely possible--even probable--that our fiasco of a wedding yesterday was quite legal.”

Laura’s spine stiffened.  “How?”

“Because it was a Mexican boat and we were past the three-mile limit, putting us in international waters with two witnesses.  We’ll have to meet with the Mexican embassy to get a final determination but given that the country tends to support marriage under most circumstances, it’s more than likely that they’ll declare it perfectly legal--and the United States will be forced to accept it under the treaties of both countries.”

“What about the fact that Juan isn’t a captain?”

“It doesn’t seem to matter in this case.  Mexican law is more forgiving than American law, and the presence of two witnesses to a marriage rite seems to be the key factor here.”

“How confident is Mildred about all this?”

“Confident enough that she asked what to get us for a wedding present and where were we taking our honeymoon.”

Laura ran her fingers through her hair before sitting in the middle of the sofa.  Her tea was forgotten in the kitchen while she collected her thoughts.  “It seems that, if I want to keep the agency, I have little choice in going along with this marriage now.”

“It does seem that way.”  He walked over and stood beside her.  “What kind of marriage do you want, Laura?”

She looked up at him.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you want the kind where we pretend that this is a lark, play house for a while, and at the end of two years, file divorce papers and go on as we were?  Or do you want a real one where we make promises to each other that we keep--where we make a home together and at the end of two years, it doesn’t matter what INS thinks?”

“I get a choice?”

Remington stuffed his hands into his pant pockets.  “You do.”

“And what happens if I pick door number two?”

“I will count myself the luckiest man in L.A.”

“What if I don’t know what I want?”

“Then I will attempt to persuade you by telling you how delighted I am that my foolish plans fell apart yesterday, and I have another chance to tell you that I love you.”

What color Laura had in her face drained away.  “Remington, you’d better mean it.”

He pulled a small box from his pants pocket and held it out.  “I should have done this seven weeks ago.”  Laura took it from him ,and he sat on the couch beside her while she opened it.  Inside was a square cut ruby set on a platinum band channeled with diamonds.  “I thought about Royal Lavulite, but blue isn’t your best color.  I’ve always loved you in red.  It’s what you were wearing the first time we danced.”

“When … when did you get this?”

“In London.”

“If you had this already, then why the deal with Clarissa?  Why didn’t you ask me?”

Yeah, this is the hard part.  Glib tongue, old chap.  Blow this now and you’ll spend the next two years attempting to convince her you were serious.  “Because I was afraid you would say ‘no’--and because if you turned me down, I didn’t want to go back to being just ‘Mr. Steele’ to you.”  He couldn’t help bringing his fingers up to toy with the ends of her hair.

“What were you planning to do if you married her?”

“I had a stupid idea of letting her live in the condo while I moved in with you.  It would have been nothing more than a pretense with her.”

“And you thought I would blithely go along with all this?”

“No.  I’d hoped I could bring you around afterwards.”  He tugged his ear.  “I’m not exactly sure why I thought that might work; it hasn’t before with you.  I’ve never known anyone who could stand up to me quite like Laura Holt.”

He reached inside his shirt, pulled out an envelope and gave it to her.  Inside, she found two airline tickets to Acapulco, in their names, dated for two weeks hence.  They had been purchased ten days ago.  “What are these?”

“A hope.  A dream.  Maybe a fantasy that I nearly let slip through my fingers.  Sometimes, Laura, I think your best asset is that you protect me from myself.  You certainly did yesterday.”

“Remington, I need you to spell out exactly what you were planning to do with these tickets.”

“I was hoping to get up the nerve to ask you to marry me.”

 

*****

 

Laura’s mood flashed into fury.  She snapped the ring box shut and dropped the envelope on the table.  As she stalking about the room, she yelled,“I don’t know WHAT to think.  You tell me that you love me and that you want to be married to me--for real.  You show me tickets to Acapulco and a ring to prove it.  All after doing something STUPID like yesterday.  I’m either falling for the biggest con of my life or you’re telling me the truth.”      

Silence stretched out between them while she turned over the facts in her mind.  She was good at hiding her emotions, and she certainly hadn’t given him any clues that she was willing to make a permanent commitment.  He was probably thrilled that we were sleeping together and was afraid to rock the boat.  It all made some kind of sense when she framed it from his perspective.  Stupid, but vaguely understandable.    

He turned on the sofa to face her.  “Would you really have married me if I’d asked you with all this bit with INS?”

“Yeah, I would have.  Because it would have given me two more years to make sure you were stuck with me while we figured out if we could have a real relationship.”

“A real relationship?  Then what’s the past seven weeks been all about?”

“Bliss.”  She looked at her nails and wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “Being with you has been all that  I’ve dreamed it could be.  I’ve been hoping that it would last.”

Now Remington stood and began pacing--a habit he’d picked up from her.  He scrubbed at his face and ran his hands through his hair.  Damn.  He stopped, taking her hands, one of which still held the ring box.  “Bloody hell, Laura.  I didn’t give you enough credit.”

“No, you didn’t.”  And with that admission, her anger washed away, leaving her balanced between regret and hope.

“What are the chances you’ll give me the next two years to make it up to you?”

“What if I don’t want door number one?”

He took the box from her and held it between them.  “This is door number two.  And I’ve already booked our honeymoon in Acapulco.”

She opened the lid to stare inside the box.  She looked down at her practical hands with short nails and no jewelry to speak of.  She wanted that stunning ring and all it represented like an addict needing another hit.

“Laura--"  Caught by the intensity in his blue eyes, she held her breath.  “Don’t take it if you aren’t willing to do this unconditionally.”

“What kind of promises are you willing to make?”

“I promise to love you and respect you.  To be your partner, your friend and your lover.  For now and always.  I … love you, Laura.”  He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She reached into the box he was still holding to retrieve the ring and slide it on the third finger of her left hand.  “I, Laura Elizabeth Holt, take you, Remington Steele, to be my husband from this day forward.  I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.  I will love and honor you for all the days of my life.”

Remington heard the words, but watching her slide the ring on her finger made his knees nearly buckle.  He tossed the empty box onto the sofa and gathered her in for a hesitant kiss.  Laura wrapped her arms around him and took the kiss to a different level.  

He swept her off her feet and carried her toward the bedroom.

 

* * * * *

 

They stopped by the agency just before lunch.  Laura kept her hand in her pocket, wanting to surprise Mildred.

She was sitting at her desk, wearily answering phone calls and punching buttons on the computer.  “There you two are.  Boy, am I glad to see you.  Everyone wants to know if the rumors are true, that Mr. Steele and Miss Holt tied the knot yesterday.”

Remington arched his brow.  “What have you been telling them?”

She arched hers back at him.  “That depends on you two.  I found a way out for both of you--if you want it.”  A disapproving frown crossed her face.

Laura set her purse on the edge of her desk and leaned against it.  “Let’s hear it.”

“First, you can get an annulment as long as you haven’t consummated the marriage.  That’s according to both Mexican law and American law.  Second, they can’t deport Mr. Steele until they can prove he is a citizen of another country.  Since we don’t have a birth certificate or any records of any kind, he’ll be safe here until they can determine proof of residence.  In the meantime, you can apply for amnesty or simply for citizenship.”

Laura glanced at Remington.  His jaw tightened faintly as he waited to see what she would do.  With amused resignation, she shot him a sour look.  “I guess since the first is a moot point, then the second is too.  I’ll just simply have to hold you to your promises, Mr. Steele.”

“Of course, Mrs. Steele,” he retorted.  Mildred’s face brightened in relief.   

Remington grinned, and Laura let a half-smile dance on her face.  “Mildred, how about the three of us go to lunch?  There isn’t anyone else we want to celebrate our wedding with at the moment.”  Laura held out her left hand to her in invitation.

“Nice ring, Mr. Steele.”

“Thank you.  I’m certain we’ll pick out wedding rings later today, but it will have to do for now."  Remington pulled another box out of his pocket and handed it to Mildred.  She frowned at him and opened it.  “What’s this for?”  It contained a stunning broach of emeralds and diamonds.

“Because we would have never made it this far without you.”  Laura smiled as her new husband leaned in to kiss the cheek of his surrogate mother.

“Oh, Mr. Steele, this is too much.”  Mildred pinned it to her blouse.  “You can’t have it back,” she warned.

“No, Ms. Krebs, it’s right where it belongs.”  He helped her to her feet and then took Laura’s hand as the trio walked out the door.

“Now, love,” Remington said casually to Laura, “where shall we go for lunch?”

 

 

3 April 2009  
edited 11 August 2010  
edited again 7 June 2011

**Author's Note:**

> A/N June 2011: I've edited this story once. Now I've decided it's time for a major rewrite. I'm a better writer now and the constantly shifting points of view in the original story now annoy the hell out of me. So if you are rereading it, yes, it's been changed--hopefully for the better.


End file.
